


Why Hummel?

by solequeene



Category: Glee
Genre: Barebacking, M/M, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-01
Updated: 2011-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-26 16:09:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solequeene/pseuds/solequeene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Tones of thanks to <a href="http://byte366.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://byte366.livejournal.com/"><b>byte366</b></a>, <a href="http://brixisxonfire.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://brixisxonfire.livejournal.com/"><b>brixisxonfire</b></a>, <a href="http://ringspells.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://ringspells.livejournal.com/"><b>ringspells</b></a> and <a href="http://aini-authoress.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://aini-authoress.livejournal.com/"><b>aini_authoress</b></a> </p>
    </blockquote>





	Why Hummel?

**Author's Note:**

> Tones of thanks to [](http://byte366.livejournal.com/profile)[ **byte366**](http://byte366.livejournal.com/), [](http://brixisxonfire.livejournal.com/profile)[ **brixisxonfire**](http://brixisxonfire.livejournal.com/), [](http://ringspells.livejournal.com/profile)[ **ringspells**](http://ringspells.livejournal.com/) and [](http://aini-authoress.livejournal.com/profile)[ **aini_authoress**](http://aini-authoress.livejournal.com/) 

Gentle hands running over his chest. Sweet mouth kissing him wildly. Soft hair that smells like mint and the ocean. Warm body, pressed against him, grinding, driving him mad. Green – blue eyes, wide and bright, gazing at him, filled with lust and passion.

Hummel.

Hummel touching him, kissing him, watching him and rubbing needily against him, pressing his erection against Puck’s thigh…

What? What the fuck? NO, NO, NO, NO, NO. Not Hummel. Never Hummel. Everyone but Hummel.

‘Cause Noah Pukerman isn’t gay. He just isn’t. No matter what kind of stupid wet dreams he gets. No matter if he dreams of Hummel’s cock against him and if he wakes up kinda hard. No matter what, Puck isn’t gay.

**********************************************************************

He has to remind himself of his no gayness the next night, too, when he dreams of Hummel in his football uniform -unusually bulky thanks to all the protection he has to wear- sweaty and ruffled after practice.

In his dream, he stays after everyone leaves and starts kissing Hummel (who, for some reason is still wearing his uniform), pushing him against the lockers, feeling his dick and (very much to Puck’s later horror) kneeling in front of him and mouthing the bulge trapped by the kicker’s tight, white pants.

Hummel moans and whimpers as Puck’s lips and tongue trace the shape of his dick, soft fabric between them. He unlaces the pants and pulls them off, freeing his throbbing cock and watches as the other licks it, kisses it, nuzzles it, eyes it like it’s the best thing he has ever seen before sliding the head into his mouth.

Puck smiles round it while flicking his tongue around the slit, watching the boy standing in front of him whimper with pleasure. Encouraged, the teen lowers his head, taking more of Hummel’s –surprisingly- large cock. He starts sucking in earnest, sliding his tongue alongside the throbbing shaft, a pale hand reaching to grab his too-short-hair and pressing his head down, forcing him to take more and more. He was deep throating the gleek, who was thrusting into his mouth, building a rapid pace, calling to him in between moans and gasps.

That’s enough for Puck, who comes immediately, in his pants, like an overexcited 12 years old.

He pulls away, hands replacing his mouth, stroking.

“Fuck! Look what you’ve done to me”

And with that Hummel is coming all over Puck’s face and he’s loving it. Simply loving it. He even licks some of it from the sides of his mouth, tasting the other teen’s come and finding it quite tasty.

And then he wakes up, screaming, covered in sweaty, sticky sheets with the terrible certainty that he is totally, absolutely and completely screwed.

**********************************************************************

School isn’t easy after that night. Hummel is everywhere. He’s in his classes. He’s in Glee. He’s in football practice, wearing those damn tight pants and Puck finds himself remembering last night’s dream… Damn Hummel. Damn Hummel and his girliness that has his dick all confused.

That night he tries to avoid any wet dream. He goes to sleep thinking of his Aunt Becca and her veiny, hairy legs. His brain, on the other hand, seems to have other plans.

This time he is sitting in class, next to Kurt. He’s actually listening to the teacher (he likes Chemistry, ok!) when he feels a warm pressure on his crotch. He looks down to see slender, pale fingers quickly and expertly unzipping his jeans and sliding to grab his cock. Which is hard. Really hard. After a mere touch. Thank God he is going commando.

Kurt’s hand is incredibly soft, tugging at Puck’s achingly hard dick, sliding up and down, tight enough, fast enough, so fucking perfect.

The best of all is the gleek’s face. No trace of blushing, no agitated breathing, no emotions in his lovely little face. He’s the perfect image of a good school boy. While giving Puck a mind blowing hand job.

That throws the jock over the edge. He comes hot and hard in Kurt’s small, perfect hand. The same hand that is swiftly cleaned of most of the mess against the side of Puck’s chair. The same hand that is lifted to its owner, who smiles naughtily and licked the still stained fingers.

He almost jizzes on his pants, again.

**********************************************************************

Avoiding Hummel doesn’t work… so he’s going to prove himself that he is not hot for Kurt.

**********************************************************************

Well, he’s a failure. He’s sure of that. He tells himself that over and over again while driving home. Failure. Failure. Failure. Failure.

He’s tried, though. He’s tried so very hard. He’s sit so he could see Hummel fully. What was so impressive about him? Why would he dream of coming for him? He looked at Kurt. What was so special about him? Eyes? Girls have eyes. Maybe not as big or expressive. Certainly not of that wonderful green – blue colour that changed with light… Hands? Well, he had to give him credit. The gleek’s hands were beautiful and slender and he remembered they way the curled around him (in his dream, at least). Fuck. Well, he had a nice body, too, all flexible and wiry and pale… so pale he would be able to mark him all over, leaving a trail of purplish love bites starting on his neck and going all the way down… and his ass, God, he shouldn’t have been thinking about his ass, but it looked so round and firm and hot, and Puck couldn’t help imagining pounding it into his mattress.

Great. He’s tried to find Hummel ugly and know he’s going home with a hard on and thinking of popping the other boy’s cherry.

Fuck

**********************************************************************

He gets home and watches porn. Straight porn. Surely, watching some tits will stop his dreams? One night, at least? Because, really, he’s sure he’ll dream about fucking Hummel -or worse… making sweet love to him, because his mind is just stupid and, apparently, totally gay - and he’s not sure he can deal with it. So, he jerks off to some blonde huge boobs and goes to sleep sated and happy.

To find himself in what he assumes is Hummel’s bed (certainly it’s not his bed), lying on his back, naked, and with the kicker’s body all over him, pretty red mouth kissing his chest, teasing him and making him moan.

The other teen is naked too, his angry red cock completely hard and Puck feels his mouth watering. Hi reaches out and starts stroking, basking in the soft, desperate moans Kurt is letting out.

“I’m ready” The soprano’s voice is unusually husky and manly and Puck thinks it’s the hottest thing he’s ever heard.

He watches Kurt (he’s Kurt, now, somehow) stretch across the bed and pull something from his nightstand. Lube and a condom. He laughs at the image of the boy buying those, all aloof and icy and the looks he surely got. But the laughter ends soon, when he sees pale, slender fingers being coated in the clear liquid and then sliding between their owner’s legs.

“Watch” Kurt’s voice is commanding and he can take his eyes from him as one small digit teases the tight entrance of the gleek’s body. He sees those green-blue eyes he likes so much as they grow wider and wider. Blush is creeping over pale, soft cheeks and Puck is sure that the teen in front him is exactly what sin looks like.

He watches as Kurt adds another finger, sliding both of them in and out of himself and the jock has the suspicion this is not the first time he has done it. He wants to try it, too. He wants to finger Hummel nice and open, make him wide enough for him.

“I wanna… fuck, Kurt… I wanna try. Lay on you back”

He watches as the other obeys him and make sure to coat his fingers with the lube. He wants this to be perfect. He wants Kurt to love it.

Slowly, carefully, Puck slides one finger inside of the gleek’s body. It’s tight. So fucking tight and hot; he had never felt anything like this. Anything so arousing and perfect. He adds another finger and he hears Kurt hiss, mutter something that sounds like “Noah” and “more”.

He motions the fingers in and out for some time before adding a third one. Kurt is positively wailing now, making the most exquisite noises, calling to him, begging him, asking for more and swearing he needs him inside, now.

He takes, his time, though, stretching Kurt as much as he can, making sure he won’t hurt him, before pulling his digits from the tight marvel that is the other boy’s body.

He smile at the whimper of loss that escapes those perfect cherry lips and swiftly puts the condom on and slick himself with some more lube. He positions himself on Kurt’s entrance, smiles at him and… there. Bliss. Joy. Tightness. Hotness. Short gasps beneath him and wide eyes even wider and he thinks he’s died and go to Heaven because this? This can’t be real.

He slowly starts to thrust, making sure Kurt is OK, making sure he’s comfortable, caressing his chest, telling him how beautiful he is, how wonderful he is, how much he means for him, he stroke the soprano’s red, throbbing cock in sync with his thrust, pace starting to get more and more frantic as he feels his orgasm building.

He won’t last much and neither will Kurt, so he sets his hand to a faster pace, twisting it at the head, caressing the slit with his thumb. That seems to do the trick, ‘cause Kurt comes with a scream and spills himself all over Puck’s hand and chest.

And now he’s thrusting harder and faster, gripping the kicker’s hips, literally fucking him into the mattress and he comes in no time, grunting wildly before collapsing into the sweat covered body beneath him.

He lays there for a few minutes, catching his breath, hearing Kurt’s forceful breathing and then he lifts his hand to brush the bangs off the boy’s face. Without thinking, without even weighting it, he opens his mouth and says it: I love you.

**********************************************************************

Puck doesn’t sleep anymore. He’s terrified of dreaming. Terrified of hearing himself say he loves Hummel. Hummel of all people. Hummel the fag. Hummel of the endless wardrobe. Hummel, who sings like a girl, who accepts being thrown into garbage as soon s his stupid jackets are safe. Hummel, who has a killer kicking leg and always smell like soap and ocean. Hummel… who makes girls laugh and helps Finn with Maths and is even nice to Puck after all he has done.

And he’s terrified of himself, because he knows he wants this, he wants to taste how that cherry-red lips tastes for real and not only in his dreams. He wants to know how warm the other boy feels and if those hands can make him melt like he suspects they can.

And he’s tired, so fucking tired and he feels himself drifting off…

“Puck? Puck? PUCK!!!!”

He’s awoken by soft yet firm hands. He fallen sleep in the rehearsal room. He’s alone. Well, except for the person in front of him, who still shaking him by the shoulders. Hummel. Of all people, Hummel. Of course. Who else? Why would God allow anybody else to find him? Why would he be spared, just once?

Afterwards, he’ll blame the sleepiness. Afterwards, he’ll admit it was stupid and rude. But that’s afterwards. Now he’s lounging forwards, grabbing Kurt’s face with both hands, crashing his lips into the other’s and coaxing them open.

Hummel stays still for a moment (though it seems like an eternity to Puck) before kissing him back. It’s everything the jock has ever dreamt and more. He was soft but firm, tongue warm and responsive; the soprano’s body hot and taut against him (when did he stand up?), his arms around the jock’s neck.

And as soon as it started, it was over and Puck hears himself whimpering at loss of that pink mouth left him.

“Why?” Kurt’s voice is breathy.

“It’s hard to explain…”

“Try”

“Well, it all started with a dream…”


End file.
